


As Small As Stars

by JoMarch



Series: Exit Strategy [38]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 08:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2143515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoMarch/pseuds/JoMarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i> "I am old, Peter. I am ever so much more than twenty. I grew up long ago."</i><br/>Final installment in the <i>Exit Strategy</i> series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Small As Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Everything through season three is fair game here.  
> Disclaimer: These characters are still not mine, which is just as well since I'm moving and I'd never be able to fit all of them in my car. The quotes in italics are from _Peter Pan_ by James M. Barrie.  
>  Thanks: To Ryo, without whom ES would never have had its Dogstar and its sparkly space dust and its best installments; and to Emily, without whom Ryo and I would not have had the advice and support we needed to complete this.  
> Dedication: To KSN, for the obvious reasons.

_Not so much as a sorry-to-lose-you between them. If she did not mind the parting, he was going to show her, was Peter, that neither did he._

***

That last day was the worst. Even now, years later, my heart hurts when I think about it. Not just because of Josh -- I've replayed that in my head enough times to know I did the right thing leaving him -- but because of the place and the work and all the people I once knew.

I used to say that I was Wendy Darling to Josh's Peter Pan. How strange I never thought of it before now, but the White House was our Neverland: this magical kingdom that most people dream about but never experience the way I did. My last month in Washington, Josh sent me on a minor errand to North Dakota. I sat on a panel and read a brief statement, and they let me keep the plaque they'd had made up for me:

Donna Moss  
The White House

It sits now on a shelf behind my office desk. Everyone who sees it has the same reaction: amazement, reverence, curiosity. Some of them touch it as though it were a holy relic, and then the questions begin:

"Did you really work there?"

"When?"

"Were you at Rosslyn?"

"Did you meet Jed Bartlet?"

"Were you ever in the Oval Office?"

I could never explain what it was like, much less my reticence to discuss those days; so over the years I've developed my standard answers to all those questions, throwing in a few light anecdotes about Thanksgiving turkeys and radio addresses to entertain the people who aren't satisfied with brief replies.

I never talk about Josh. I try not to think too much about him. I have my work; there's a man I could love if I tried. My world doesn't revolve around his, but that's a good thing. My star follows its own orbit now, and I'm a stronger person for it.

Despite the fact that, on the day I left, people kept insisting Josh would fall apart without me, he's done fine. He has Leo's office now, and he married Amy Gardner. When I see him occasionally on the Sunday morning talk shows, he looks happy. Content. Fulfilled.

We both survived. It turns out we're better apart than together, after all. Who would have believed it? Certainly not me, not on that last day.

I'd made it clear to everyone that I didn't want a fuss made about my leaving -- no going-away party, no big farewells. Just another day in the West Wing. Still, Bonnie, Carol, Ginger and Margaret insisted on taking me out to lunch. Ed and Larry arrived at my desk that afternoon with balloons. Charlie hugged me, and Zoey cried. The President called me into the Oval Office one last time and told me how sorry he was to see me go, while Leo looked on solemnly. When I left the Oval Office, I paused for a minute and ran my hand along the edge of Mrs. Landingham's desk, wondering whether my life would have turned out differently if she'd still been there to guide me. Sam kissed me, and Toby looked for half a second as though he might hug me.

The door to Josh's office remained closed through it all.

When I'd printed out Josh's schedule for the following day, I shut off my computer for the last time, cleaned out my desk, and forced myself to say goodbye to CJ. She tried to be all business at first, giving me the names of people to contact and places to go in Berkeley. We carefully avoided the subject of Josh.

"This isn't the end," CJ promised. "We'll keep in touch."

"No, we won't," I replied. It was, after all, the end of a long day, and I'd been bombarded with sentiments like that. Even though there was only one person in the West Wing who meant more to me than CJ did, I was too tired to keep up the facade. "We'll mean to, and we'll manage it at first. You'll call every week, and we'll have lunch whenever you're in California. But eventually we'll reach the point where we're both so busy that we never have time for more than an occasional email or an obligatory Christmas card."

CJ, who was never afraid to face the truth, nodded. "You're right," she said, "but know this: That won't mean I love you any less."

After that, I only had one thing left to do. I knocked on his door and walked in. He was standing behind the desk, facing the window, his back to me.

"I'm leaving now," I told him, but he still didn't look at me.

"Yeah."

"Your schedule's on my desk. Jane will be here at seven tomorrow. I already told her about the research for 183, so she should have that for you by noon."

"Fine."

So that's it, I thought. We've reached the point where he won't even look at me. That's just as well. One look from him -- the smallest indication that he's hurting -- and I'd never make it out that door. 

I would always be weak when it came to him. Always want him more than I wanted my independence, and that wasn't healthy. 

My hand was on the doorknob when he called my name.

I spun around, and there he was: Joshua in all his glory. It's the image of him I still carry around in my head -- his hair as unmanageable as he was; his face expressionless, like he'd been practicing how to shut me out of his life; his eyes that warm brown I'd always imagined our children inheriting.

"I bought this for you," he said. He was standing maybe three feet away from me, and he lobbed a small rectangular package my way.

I caught it between my hands and studied it for a minute. "Why?" I asked.

"Because it's traditional," he said. He used that bitter tone of voice he'd reserved for me those last few weeks. "Going-away gift for a valued employee. Gratitude for a job well done. All that crap."

I started to unwrap the package.

"Not here," he said. "I don't...you can wait until you get to Berkeley. It's just... it's nothing important."

I put the package in my sweater pocket. "Thank you" was all I could manage to say.

He nodded and moved back behind his desk, motioning toward the door. "You should leave now if you want to avoid traffic."

I tried to say something else. "Goodbye," "I love you," "Let me stay" -- but by the time I knew what I wanted to say, Josh had turned his attention to the briefing book on his desk.

I had been dismissed.

He married Amy Gardner three weeks later.

***  
I made good time out of Washington. I drove most of the night, finally stopping out of exhaustion at a Red Roof Inn somewhere in Ohio.

I was almost asleep when I remembered the package. I switched the lamp back on, climbed out of the bed, and fished it out of the sweater I'd discarded on a chair.

It was a necklace -- two stars dancing around each other on a delicate silver chain. The necklace rested on the usual cotton batting jewelry comes packaged in, but the cotton was flecked with tiny bits of silver paper.

My sparkly space dust.

***

I have a good life. I have friends, work, security. I have a man who'd love me if I'd let him close. I'm content. I hardly ever think about the West Wing.

Sometimes though, when I watch the Sunday news shows or read about the White House Chief of Staff, I take out that necklace. I study it, and I cry, and I let myself remember those days when I threw away a priceless gift.

Joshua Lyman's heart.

*** 

_Of course in the end Wendy let them fly away together. Our last glimpse of her shows her at the window, watching them receding into the sky until they were as small as stars._

THE END

06.10.02


End file.
